Tu(killa)vok(ingbird)?
“…the observable universe is far too small to contain an ordinary digital representation of Graham’s number, assuming that each digit occupies at least one Planck volume…The last ten digits of Graham’s number are …2464195387.”
Oh my God. Literally.
I appreciate that this is the second time this week I’ve said “I don’t normally reblog”…but look at these guys! Look at ‘em!
(via kilakeith)
1. Save every spam email and spam comment on my blog for a year.
2. Try to arrange them into a continuous narrative.
Either…
3. (a) Publish bestselling post-modern literary masterpiece.
3. (b) Discover the Internet has gained sentience and actually is trying to befriend us.
3. (c) Be chided by my superiors for such flagrantly pointless exercises.
(I elected not to post the sub-categories of 3(a) and (b), but suffice to say 3(b)(iii) involves selling the film rights to my autobiography to JJ Abrams.)
“Hope reaches out of time, and into eternity, takes hold of what God sees, of what God knows, of what God promises. And it doesn’t let go.”
John Keating
This is a rough draft.
There’s a phrase we use when we’re describing something we consider new and fresh and unexpected. We say it’s “out of the box.” The problem with the phrase is that when something or someone is judged to be in or out of “the box”, it reveals that “the box” is still our primary point of reference. We’re still operating within the prescribed boundaries and assumptions of how things are supposed to be. “Out of the box” is sometimes merely another way of being “in the box.” And then there are those who come from a totally different place. They ask another kind of question: “There’s a box?”
Rob Bell
Before you ask, that’s a guy wearing black clothes and a balaclava, a la Tom Cruise in Mission:Impossible, not a golliwog, a la any politically incorrect reference made by a middle-aged English man in the House of Lords.
Emergent creationism?
(PS why is this page so ridiculously short?! Please wikipedia, feed my radiolab induced frenzy!)
An Example of How Nice the Ladies I Work With Are:
I just remembered that I’d worked here for like 2 months before I found out I had my own trash bin under my desk, and I’d been using theirs for all my scraps of paper until then, and they never mentioned it.
“I wonder Grampa didn’ kill nobody. Nobody never tol’ Grampa where to put his feet. An’ Ma ain’t nobody you can push aroun’ neither. I seen her beat the hell out of a tin peddler with a live chicken one time ‘cause he gave her a argument. She had the chicken in one han’, an’ the ax in the other, about to cut its head off. She aimed to go for that peddler with the ax, but she forgot which hand was which, an’ she takes after him with the chiken. Couldn’ even eat that chicken when she got done. They wasn’t nothing but a pair of legs in her han’. Grampa throwed his hip outta joint laughin’.” — The Grapes of Wrath, by John Steinbeck